


Post Op; Pre Release

by Confused_Foam



Series: scoliosis can bite me [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hospitals, M/M, Medical Themes, More than Mild Language, Named and Unnamed Medical Staff, Non-Graphic Medical Stuff, Nurses, Pain Killers, Surgery, Vomit, mobility issues, the iwaoi is up to personal interpretation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confused_Foam/pseuds/Confused_Foam
Summary: Scoliosis, anesthesia, hospital rooms without clocks, and yellow jell-o can all go to hell for all Hajime cares.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello- this is a direct sequel to [ the previous work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089230) and I highly recommend reading that one prior to reading this.

   
Waking up after major surgery isn’t nearly as dramatic or mind blowing as Hajime had thought it might be. He isn’t thinking about the operation at all, or much of anything really. It’s dark and his vision is blurry but neither of these facts are particularly concerning in the moment. He turns his head a little, incremental side to side movements until he spots some woman in light blue scrubs typing away just outside his dim little compartment. Even though he can’t remember making any sort of noise, something must of slipped because he only stares at her for a moment before managing to catch her attention. “Well! Look who’s awake. Welcome back Iwaizumi-san. This is the anaesthesia recovery ward.” Her movements into the seem distorted and impossibly quick as every blink takes forever and his brain blurs and stutters trying to keep up. It’s a little easier to listen to her carry on with the short introductions after he closes his eyes.   
   
They stay closed as she tells him that the surgery reportedly went very well, and introduces him to his pain button. Listening gets ever more difficult after he presses it at the nurse's instruction, and he quickly becomes distracted by what feels like an all important question.   
   
“Wha time issit?” Hajime slurs, tongue slow to get with the program. If he were more with it perhaps he would feel bad for interrupting her; but as things stand he is falling back into the fog so quickly he almost doesn’t hear her answer. Not that 4:26 in the afternoon means anything to him at this point. Before he can even begin trying to make some uses of the new information, Hajime is asleep again.   
   
.  
…  
.  
   
On the second go around he manages to stay awake a little longer, if only just. But evidently Tooru did manage to restrain himself enough to keep his promise, because when Hajime slowly cracks his eyes open his mother is standing by his bed. Even though he is sure he has no room to talk, he can’t help but think she looks beyond exhausted. The grin that splits across her face when she meets his open eyes helps that a bit. She even sounds tired, under relief as she lunges right into  questioning him. “Oh Hajime! How do you feel baby?”   
   
Hajime has to close his eyes for a minute, trying to perform even a basic self assessment. “I dunno. Tired...ahh...sore?” Honestly he isn’t really sure. It’s hard to think past lingering anesthesia and fresh narcotics, and he can’t even feel much of his back. It’s better than he thought he was going to feel though, so at least there is that. He’s sure there is something he is supposed to ask her in return, but it escapes him as he absently presses on his pain button listening to the beeps it makes. When he gives up and opens his eyes to look at her again, she is still smiling, just softer than before.   
   
“You can only have one or two visitors every couple of hours right now.” His mother informs him, and he hums in acknowledgement. “Tooru is going to come back next shift, but I’ll be back after that ok?” Again, it’s all Hajime can do to hum and let a probably stupid, embarrassingly dorky smile  slide across his face at the promise of seeing Tooru. He misses the next couple of things she says, because he’s getting fuzzy again and it’s starting to sound like she is talking to him underwater again. Either she catches that he isn’t paying attention, or his eyes have been closed longer than he thinks, because he hears a sigh. “It’s ok baby. You can go back to sleep.” She murmurs, light fingers grazing his cheek. Hajime doesn’t have it in him to argue with such an appealing offer.   
   
.  
…  
.  
   
True to his mother’s word, Tooru is hovering over Hajime next time he wakes up. Unlike previous times, he doesn’t get a reprieve while waiting for the other person in the room to notice he is awake. No, Tooru is staring him dead in the face from the second Hajime opens his eyes. The only comfort to the fact that he can feel that damn smile pulling at his mouth again is that Tooru looks just as stupid as Hajime is pretty sure he looks himself. So at least he doesn’t look like a total moron by himself. “Get outta my face you creep” Hajime grumbles at the same time Tooru lets out a happy, relieved “Hajime!” He’s not sure, but he might catch a muffled laugh from over where he saw the nurse working on her computer earlier.   
   
Apparently deciding to listen for once in his life, Tooru pulled away some; but that forsaken smile doesn’t fall from either of their faces. Even if Hajime is turning a little pink at the thought of the nurse watching them. “Hajime!” Tooru repeats, and barrels on before Hajime gets the chance to call him out on it. “Are you ok? How are you feeling? Aunty said you are still really tired? Four hours is way too long you know that? You got to sleep the whole time but Aunty and I just had to sit around and wait for hours. And-” The torrent continues, making Hajime’s head spin. But he lets the other go on until he’s done, because he is well aware that Tooru is just decompressing after too much stress. The questions don’t need answers right away, and they probably aren’t expected either, so Hajime just ignores them for now.   
   
“Did you text Hanamaki and Matsukawa?” While most of the team had made demands to be kept updated on Hajime’s progress, his fellow third years had landed themselves as the very defined tops of that list. For all the joking they had done about his so called snake spine, the pair were less than great at masking their mounting concern as the surgery had crawled closer. Hajime had rarely seen them so serious off the court as they were one of all of their last nights together, when Hanamaki had brought the whole thing up over the scanty remains of two medium pizzas. Even thinking about the look on his face was enough for Hajime to feel guilty at the mere prospect that either one of them had been left out of the loop.   
   
Tooru heaves a sigh that sounds like pure relief, and even if Hajime can’t pin down the cause it’s a joy to watch his shoulder’s slide down to a height more in the neighborhood of normal. “Of course I did. Makki sent like a million smiley faces and his best wishes, and Mattsun said he would try and come visit once they get you in an actual room and-” here Tooru inserted some air quotes that Hajime barely caught between slow blinks, “Out of that curtained off post-op hellhole.” The familiarity of the description confuses Hajime until some back corner of his brain that is actually functioning correctly reminds him of bout of poor health that had plagued Matsukawa’s grandfather through most of their first year and reportedly much of the boy’s middle school years as well.   
   
All that listening and that little bit of thinking are catching up to Hajime pretty quick, as is the dose from the latest push of his pain button. He only half joins in Tooru’s joking about Hanamaki’s apparent excitement because “I swear to God Iwa-chan I don’t think Makki has sent this many emojis ever! Look what you did to this poor boy!” After squinting at the messages himself, all he can do is laugh and agree. Laughing feels weird and hurts a little even however, so Hajime swallows it down and just mumbled his way through some kind of agreement.   
   
Words are getting hard again and so is holding his eyes open, so Hajime gives up on them. He gives frequent enough hums to let Tooru know that he wants the brunette to keep talking, but they quickly become more spread out as Hajime lets the pain killers and Tooru’s idle chatter hurl him back into unconsciousness.   
   
.  
…  
.  
   
The cycle of fading in and out to familiar faces and muffled voices continues once or twice more. the true count and list of who exactly visits him that evening is mostly lost to Hajime’s soupy brain, but it warms him nonetheless. Eventually though, he wakes up to no one. The lights in the whole unit seem dimmer than he remembers them, and the nurse who wanders in tells him that it is 1:38 in the morning.  
   
Some other woman comes in to take his vitals, and even the exertion of holding his arm up so she can fit the blood pressure cuff on his arm is too much. By the time she takes the thermometer out from under his tongue, Hajime is almost entirely gone.   
   
.  
…  
.  
   
His next waking, or his next full one at least, is considerably less pleasant than those previous. Hajime the typical fog, briefly. A moment to turn his head slightly and grasp his surrounds before his whole stomach flips. All told, it is probably one of the easiest vomitings he has ever experienced, especially given the he is laying almost flat on his back. It feels like all he really does his open his mouth and suddenly there an out pouring of green and he isn’t really sure what happened.   
It takes him a minute to catch on what happened, and another one after to figure out what to do. Unlike most times when he has woken up there is no one in his line of sight, and he doesn’t remember ever being introduced to any sort of call button. He floundered for a moment before his drugged up brain manages to think up a solution. Hajime has no idea how long it actually took for his scratchy voice to catch the attention of his night nurse, be he does know the he starts to fall asleep while calling out. When she does come in she says...something to him, he’s not entirely sure what.   
   
A blink must turn into a momentary black out, because when he opens his eyes again his nurse is a lot closer but also holding a package of skin wipes he doesn’t remember from before. She sits his bed up, which is uncomfortable and almost nauseating but thankfully just almost. While she peels off the cold, slimy gown and replaces it with cold, mildly slimy skin wipes Hajime tries to be as helpful as he can. It isn’t much be he manages to follow along and sort of move his arms where she asks him too.  
   
Being wiped down by a stranger is less weird in a hospital setting, but it is still more than a bit awkward. At least for the patient, and especially when she moves to his legs and areas in between them; even if she does ask first. The vaguely embarrassed discomfort is a distraction from the quiet nag of uselessness he feels as she rounds out the bath by rolling some hospital deodorant under his arms for him and helping him get a rinse with some mouth wash.  
   
Even having done next to nothing, Hajime is more than ready then ready to jam that pain button and go back to sleep by the time his nurse is helping him into a new gown. He forces himself to stay awake and alert long enough to listen while she tells him about the call button they are actually giving him now, but that is about it. The dilaudid is doing it’s job just fine by the time she nestles the large plastic remote looking thing in between his arm and body, and he is out like a light before she is three steps away from the bed.   
   
Having had to be rolled onto his side by nurses to change the sheets out from under him and moving around to be washed after that little incident saps hime pretty good. The rest of the night is sleep. Really shitty sleep where he wakes up every few minutes, sometimes not even leaving enough time to get another dose from his button,  before drifting back off in a pattern that is exhausting but still. It is technically sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, or later in the same morning really, comes the first bowl of Jell-o. Apparently, throwing up all over your self at three something in the morning doesn’t exclude you from breakfast just a few hours later. It is also news to Hajime that Jell-o counts as breakfast at all. Orange colored (but not, for some reason, orange flavored) isn’t exactly his usual morning pick, but it is the only thing he’s getting just yet. He’s in no mood to picky about it either, not having had anything to eat in more than a day. So he goes to town...for all three spoonfuls it takes for him to start feeling queasy again. The Jell-o ends up sitting on the side table he can’t actually reach for hours. 

After his pitiful breakfast, meds, and more vitals checks, Hajime dozes the early morning away. His head is a little less foggy today, but he still feels exhausted and the IV dilaudid makes his eyelids feel like stone. This, combined with the fact that this curtained off little corner is boring as shit, means that Hajime spends most of his time unconscious or floating in a cottony grey area. For a couple of hours the only things that interrupts him are a few vitals checks. Coherently responding to the nurses inquiries and giving pain scores is easier, but lifting his arm up to help them get the blood pressure cuff on and off still requires a shameful amount of effort. 

There is a very small victory in the fact that he's actually awake to greet his visitor when they arrive. It is, of course, his mother. She looks fairly surprised to see his open eyes, but not at all in a bad way. With her cup of coffee and warm smile, she seems far improved from the drawn look of yesterday. It really is only luck that Hajime is awake to witness her coming in. She always has had good timing. “How are you feeling this morning Hajime?” She asks, not even waiting to get fully seated to start her worrying. 

Hajime decides that there are several reasons that “like I am on high strength narcotics” isn’t a sufficient answer. Mostly that it won’t actually tell her a thing about his current status, and she won’t find it at all funny. If he could manage a proper deadpan for once in his life, it would probably get at least a chuckle out of Hanamaki. He files the joke away for later, if his former teammate comes to visit. Maybe he should have gone on with it though, because the answer he does give is almost equally as informative. “Better than yesterday. But not good...or much at all really? I’m not sure...Fine I guess?” At least the narcotics joke would have been concise. 

“Oh my poor Hajime!” She coos, half laughing and sounding every bit the concerned and stressed mother she is. He answer her questions about “breakfast” and the overnight only slightly more effectively than her inquiries on his well being. The vomit story seems to amuse her more than worry her, to Hajime’s relief. The last thing he wanted to do was cause his mother more stress. The shake down for absolutely everything that has happened in the last 13 or so hours ends...eventually. It goes quicker once she catches on to the fact that he was unconscious for the vast majority of the time. Thank the lord. Instead they move on to the only slightly less annoying checking of Hajime’s phone. 

They had decided before the surgery that until Hajime was awake and alert most of the time his mother would keep track of his phone. She’d manage the messages to and from the short list of people Hajime had told her to message once he was in the clear. One or two classmates, and some of his closer teachers who had asked for emails when he had told them what was going on. Tooru was in charge of handling their former teammates. Hajime’s mother had actually suggested letting Tooru keep his phone instead of her, but he had insisted. Not that he wanted he really wanted his phone is his mother's possession for that long. What teenager would? However, letting Tooru have it had sounded like a nightmare. Hajime would trust him with his life no problem, but unlimited access to his cell phone for four or five days? Not in this lifetime. So his mother gets to handle all of his not-volleyball related correspondence. Which admittedly isn’t much. 

After they get through the small collection of texts and emails, they chat. Hajime would guess that they carry on for an hour or two, but he still can’t see a fucking clock so who knows. Periodically, they are interrupted by vitals checks and accidental naps. It’s nice, in a way. Even if Hajime keeps drifting off for a few minutes here and there. It feels good to talk about nothing particularly important with his mother for a while. The past month has been all surgery this, graduation that, college bleh; on and on. Stress-less small talk is great. Hajime can’t even remember the last time he spent this much time alone with his mother without it being serious talk time. Between school, volleyball, and his friends taking up his time, and work taking up hers it is hard to get time like this. Even if it is in the curtained off corner of a hospital ward. If Hajme also feels that it is very nice when she leaves and things a relatively quiet again, nobody needs to know. She leaves him with a kiss on the forehead and the promise Tooru will be by sometime after lunch. 

.  
…  
.

_Hospitals are boring as shit when you are awake._ It’s right around the 50th time this though it rolling around Hajime’s head that one of the nurses comes in with a woman in different colored scrubs. As far as he has noticed all the nurses working in this ward wear the same almost-sky blue color. But this new woman is in violet. Not that he is given any chance to ask why for himself. Besides the time, Hajime hasn’t had the chance or presence of mind to ask his nurses many question. Any time he can manage to think one up, the answer is being given to him before he can even open his mouth to ask it. This time is no different. 

“Good afternoon Iwaizumi-san. This is Imai Tomoko from occupation therapy.” Imai-san bows slightly when introduced, and Hajime nods his own greeting as the ward nurse carries on talking. “ She’s here to work with you for a little while and see if we can’t get you up and walking a little bit today.” It’s probably a good thing that this particular nurse talks too much too fast. It leaves Hajime no time to dwell on the fact that standing sounds more intimidating than anything. Hell, he hasn’t even sat fully up-right yet. The nurse sounds excited though, and Imai-san is smiling encouragingly at him. He tried to push aside his doubts, in the face of their professional status. 

_If I wasn't ready for this they wouldn’t be asking me to try. They work in a hospital. They know what the hell they are doing._ Hajime reminds himself, even though he has very little confidence in his own ability at the moment. It is reassuring enough that when the nurse asks if everything sounds good to him he manages an affirmative. 

“Fantastic!” The nurse exclaims, pulling her little vittles cart up to his bedside with a smile. “Let me just take your vitals again quickly and you and Imai-san can get to work.” Blood pressure cuff, thermometer, and pain score come in their typical rapid succession. He’s got no clue what the results for the first two are but Hajime gives her an unsure four for as pain score. 

“Iwaizumi-san, do you mind if I talk to you a little bit about occupational therapy while we get things set up?” Imai-san inquires, already moving things out of her way. She smiles when Hajime shakes his head, wagging the thermometer still tucked under his tongue about. “So occupation therapy is different from physical therapy. It’s our job to help you get mobile enough to function successfully at home. Climbing stairs, showering, those sorts of daily tasks.” She paused her explanation, murmuring an “excuse me” as she reached over him to reorganize some of his tubes. “Anyway, physical therapy will come around and help you with walking and steps too, but they are more focused on helping you recover strength and flexibility.” Apparently finished with her explanation, she is mostly quiet as she moves a few more things around him. 

Once the IVs, his drain, and the bag connected to his foley are all situated Imai-san works on getting him into a sitting position. Turning to the side and swinging is legs to hang over the edge of the bed is indescribably difficult. Every move tugs on some tube in a weird way, be it his catheter or the wound drain. He can’t put much pressure on either of his arms with IVs in the backs of both hands and one in the crook of his right arm. There are no muscles in his back left to use, or if their are they aren’t cooperating. Getting it done feels like only ⅓ his own effort, and the rest Imai-san’s firm but mostly comfort re-positioning. As little of the work as it feels like he is doing, his shoulders and abdominals burn with the effort. Things are not much better once he is fully sitting though. Even just sitting still, head hanging, the world is spinning and taking his stomach with it. 

They pause here a minute. Imai-san seems to let Hajime take things slowly. Perhaps she can see that he is looking a little green around the gills. When he manages to look up at her, color a little more normal, she prompts him to get moving again. “Ready to try standing up Iwaizumi-san?” 

“Yup.” Hajime confirms, though he isn’t entirely sure. But he is already getting worn out just sitting up, so waiting any longer isn’t going to do him any favors. Even carefully following the occupational therapist’s direction Hajime hardly feels like he is any help as Imai-san pulls him up to stand in front of her. If Hajime thought the world was spinning as he was sitting down, things seem damn close to apocalyptic now as he clutches to Imai-san’s elbows. They take one and a half pathetic, shaky, steps before Hajime’s whole world lurches. 

Hajime would apologize for covering himself, the floor, and Imai-san in weird green vomit if he wasn’t so focused on doing it again. His stomach continues to churn unhappily as the OT and one of the ward nurses get him sitting back down. At least Imai-san doesn’t look very angry, or even that surprised. The same calm doesn’t quite reach Hajime, he’s pretty shocked, and he is the one who just threw up. He is dazed and exhausted while one of the nurses cleans up off with another pack of body wipes and replaces his gown. While she is working she says something about it being a pretty good first pass at walking. He’s pretty sure that it’s utter bullshit. 

He’s laid back down and feeling like overcooked pasta that someone just threw against a wall before he knows it. The room is still spinning slowly, so Hajime closes his heavy eyes to escape. _A good first pass my ass._ He finds himself thinking. _I couldn’t even take two whole steps. What the hell._ Frustrated with what he considered a failure, similar thoughts bounce around in his mind as he is pulled under by his painkillers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about hurling on your occupational therapist? yeah that totally happened to me. not my greatest moment. 
> 
> Some basic explanation to some of the medical stuff in this chapter:  
> the drain- a big tube stuck in/near the incision that drains out all kinds of nasty fluids and helps prevent inflammation and infection  
> foley- the same thing as a catheter. properly called a foley catheter, its a urinary catheter the drains the pee outta ya and into a bag. because you know, if you can't stand or move around you can't exactly pee  
> dilauded- a pretty strong pain killer that can be given through IV and orally in the form of a pill
> 
> also feel free to find me on twitter @confused_foam fair warning: I am fairly new (read:I just started this particular account) to using twitter like this (read:actually tweeting and not observing.) But i'd love to engage with y'all. there's some art over there but it's probably not what you are thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

Hajime is pretty sure he feels way worse after his nap than he did directly after surgery. Not nearly as groggy, but in considerably more pain. Honestly, he hadn’t felt much of anything when he first work up. Now there's a dull ache radiating all the way up his back, and seemingly taking up residence in his shoulder blades. Not to mention the ongoing churn in his stomach. Which probably has to do with how much less foggy everything is. It had a lot to do with how much less groggy, he discovers pretty quickly. Pressing his pain button when he wakes up has very quickly become habit. So when he wakes up without the button in his hand, and no amount of groping yields results, Hajime knows something has changed.

Vaguely he can recall someone mentioning taking the button away once he got standing. Personally Hajime wouldn’t count that sad, sorry shit show as standing, but he’s noticed standards run a little lower around here than he’s used to. Orange Jell-o counts as breakfast. Stumbling not even two steps and throwing up all over yourself and a member of the occupational therapy staff counts as being “up and at it.” Displays so weak that they make Hajime want to curl up and hide net him compliments about how well he’s progressing. 

His mounting frustration is, thankfully, interrupted before he pulls himself too deep. “Iwaizumi-san! I’m glad you’re awake. How is your stomach feeling?” 

“Still a little queasy.” Hajime admits. The nurse, the one from earlier, smiles sympathetically at him, and it makes him want to pull his blanket up over his head until she’ll go away. 

“Would you like some medicine to try and settle it or would you prefer to hold off on that?” The stomachache isn’t too bad. Nothing Hajime can’t weather. He doesn’t exactly relish the idea of taking any more medicines than he already it. 

“I think I can manage. Thanks.” 

“Okay. Please let us know if it gets any worse, or you decided you do want the medicine after all.” Hajime wonders if the smile is her natural one, or a very well trained bedside manner. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes. But he would hate being pathetic enough to pull a smile like that from someone who sees people like him and way worse day in day out. It being bedside manner would at least feel better. “Oh. And Iwaizumi-san? Physical therapy is going to come down and make their rounds soon. Would you like to work with them today? It’s alright if you don’t feel up to it. You had a tough morning, I can tell them to wait until tomorrow.”

“No...Not today.” hajime hates to say no. He wants to be up and on his feet desperately, Every improvement here is another step closer to being back on the court. He knows that. But his stomach is still turning, and if he relaxes from being pulled tight and anxious he can feel his whole body shaking. He’s too weak. The second he stood up everything would just give up on him and he knows it. It’s frightening, to feel this weak. To know that he couldn’t stand up even if he wanted to. Physically incapable of even rolling over on his own. 

The kindness this nurse is insisting on showing isn’t helping much either. Her soft smiles leave something bitter at the back of his throat. All they do is add her onto the list of people Hajime feels like he is disappointing. The genuine tone in her voice when she tells him “It’s ok Iwaizumi-san. You worked hard this morning, you deserve a rest.” lands her a nice spot right below Coach Irihata. 

She asks if there is anything else he needs before she gets back to her rounds. It takes a few minutes and the help of another nurse but they get Hajime rolled over onto his right side. A posture he can’t even maintain on his own. It takes a set of pillows against his back to prop him up and keep him flopping back over. At least this way he doesn’t have to stare at the same ceiling tiles for hours on end.  
.  
…  
.  
How much Hajime is missing the speckles on the ceiling tiles is a true testimate to how fucking bored he is. Even if he still feels pretty run down a nap doesn’t seem to be in the cards at the moment. At least having the spots to count would almost keep him busy. It feels like he’s been staring at the same spot on the wall for hours. It can’t really have been more the 20 or so minutes. Nobody has come in to take his vitals, or see if he needs anything. But time is moving like molasses when he doesn’t have anything to occupy his mind but the state of his back. 

Hajime loves the sciences. Life sciences especially. He took the highest level biology course Aobajousai offered, and every even vaguely sciency or medical elective he could cram into his schedule. Muscular structures are a old friend of his, from a physiological standpoint as well as the athletic one. He can, and has much to Tooru’s displeasure, talk someone's ear off about sarcomeres alone. So he is well fucking aware of the effects of surgery on someone’s muscular system. But even having an idea the probable damage, and how it is likely to heal going into the surgery, he doesn't feel at all ready for his reality.  
.  
…  
.  
Tooru’s arrival is a more than welcome interruption to Hajime’s stewing. Even if he does break up the beginnings of an uneasy doze. For the best really, Hajime never slept well on an uneasy mind or stomach. Having both was sure fire ticket to unpleasant dreams. 

“You awake Iwa-chan?” Tooru stage whispered as he came in a took one of the visitors chairs. Like Hajime hadn’t been pretty openly watching him from the time he pulled open the curtain. He decided to play along anyway. It was easy enough to fall into their usual banter. 

“Well I was. Until someone’s loud ass came busting in here.”

“Rude. And after I came to visit you too. I see how it is.”

“Who said I wanted to see you?” 

“Oh so you get a few nice pretty nurses looking after you, and suddenly you don’t need me any more Iwa-chan?”

 

“Shut. Up. Shittykawa.” Hajime can’t quite manage to keep his mock grumpy face together for the full effect . It’s ok though, because Tooru is breaking up in giggles too. 

They both fall silent, however, when a nurse pops her head in looking equal parts concerned and annoyed. Apparently they are being quite a bit louder than they thought. Because she was worried they were actually fighting. Hajime assures her that everything is fine and they were just joking around, which she seems to accept. She doesn’t let them off without a stern reminder to keep their voices down, and a steady glare at Tooru though. They can’t even keep it together long enough for the end of her ponytail to clear the curtain before they are both dissolving into snickers. 

The fun times don’t last that long. Because, as Hajime very quickly discovers, laughing when you have an over 40 cm incision down your back doesn’t feel all that great. He ends up somewhere between laughing and cringing as he tries to calm down and stop. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Tooru to catch on. “Iwa-chan?”

“I’m fine. Just. Ugh.” Hajime huffed out a breath. “Fuckin’ ow you know?” 

Tooru bit his lip, pulling his face up in a way that meant he was trying not to say something really stupid. Not that it ever stopped him. “Always knew you can’t take a joke Iwa-chan. But this really is a bit much.” 

“Good. God. You…” Hajime hissed between choking back more chucked. Because dammit, that was pretty funny. And he was glad to laugh, and get to see that happy little smile splitting across Tooru’s face. But it also pulled at all sorts of things uncomfortably to laugh even a little. A sharper twinge managed to pull grimaces out of both young men.  
“Sorry…” Tooru muttered, looking guilty. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I know...but still…” 

“Tooru.” At Hajime’s stern tone, Tooru’s frown deepened and he looked away with a sigh, and leaving his friend to stare at the side of his head. Hajime picked at the edge of his blanket while the awkward air hovered. 

Maybe it was the tense hospital environment. Or the reversal they were facing here. Sure, they are used to leaning on each other. They’ve both been around to seem plenty of ups and downs. But this was new and unusual. It wasn’t often Hajime was the one laid up. Hell, he rarely even got sick enough to stay home. Tooru was the one who worked himself into being bed locked. Hajime’s heath had never been a question. Yet here they were. Sitting awkward and quiet in an anesthesia recovery ward, and Hajime was the one in the bed; debating on telling his best friend that he can’t even stand right now.

For once in their lives, Tooru caved first. With one of his toughest subject changes to date. “Mom and Dad want to come see you. They wanted to come up now actually. But I told them to go get coffee. Thought you might like some heads up. And I wasn’t sure how you were feeling today.” 

Oh. So Tooru was the voluntary family canary. Coming to see if Hajime was worked up into a mood and/or still high off his ass on painkillers and anesthesia. “Let ‘em know that they can come up.” They would break up the awkward atmosphere at least. Besides, even a little worn out Hajime felt pretty sure he was up to a visit from the Oikawa's. They were practically his second parents, it wouldn’t be all that different from a visit from his mother. 

False complaints flow freely as Tooru shoots off a text. Most likely to his mother, because for everything his father is capable of using a cell phone is still at the fringes of his ability. Hajime had had the pleasure of witnessing some of his greatest garbled voice to text nonsense of the years. 

Tooru’s obnoxiously cheerful text tone goes off in no time flat, and he relays that his parents should be up in a few minutes. Apparently they hadn’t even left the building, opting to get some reportedly awful cafeteria coffee. Hajime filled the wait talking about his breakfast Jell-o and desperately trying to describe the flavor. 

Much like Hajime predicted, the Oikawa family visit isn’t particularly notable. Tooru is evicted and sent in search of vending machines so that they can keep in compliance with the two visitor limit. But this is probably for the best. As well as Hajime gets on with his friends parents, the whole crew would be a lot to handle right now. One thing is for sure, the setter comes by his personality honestly. Even if it mostly small talk, the Oikawa’s are tough to keep up with once they get going. By the time they leave Hajime is run ragged and falling asleep. In his sleepy state he only mumbled happily when Tooru runs his hand through his hair as he says goodbye.  
.  
…  
.  
Hajime sleeps through most of the late afternoon. Nurses come and go but he hardly wakes up to let them jam thermometers under his tongue and pills down his throat. At some point a pair of nurses roll his back out flat, but even that doesn’t keep him up long. Eventually though, he has to come to properly. A real meal has been delivered on a blue plastic tray at some point while he was asleep. Or, not a real meal exactly. He is still limited to a clear liquid diet, but they tray has more than Jell-o on it. Which feels like a step up at least. He gets to enjoy a few sips of the watery-ist chicken broth he has ever encountered and a bite or two of Jell-o before his stomach decides it has had enough. 

It’s yellow Jell-o this time. Like bright ass lemon yellow. But the label on top says mixed berry flavor. Hajime is confused. 

Not too long after Hajime has abandoned his dinner, and all hopes of understand the Jell-o situation, his mother comes back around. She hardly even greets him before going on a thorough inspection of his dinner tray. He rolls his eyes at her “Tough luck Hajime” when she gets to the drinks. Which made it sound like he was complaining about the apple juice and black tea they had given him, which he was perfectly happy just to ignore. The fussing continues for a while, and while Hajime knows his mother is particular about what they eat it is a little ridiculous. 

When she is finally done analyzing his whole meal, her attention fixes back on him. Hajime pretends he isn’t just putting off telling her about trying to walk this morning by giving an almost complete play by play of the Oikawa’s visit. And then making her check through a bunch of stuff on his phone before she can ask about the rest of his day. 

This is really a pointless endeavor. These little diversions can only tide her over for so long. Especially when he is pretty sure she already knows what happened anyway. If the snippets of her conversation with a nurse he overheard through the curtain before she came in are anything to go by. But she’ll want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, and Hajime only distracts her for so long before the prompting begins. She’s way easier to tell than Tooru though, so he goes along with it and tells her almost everything. He leaves off how shitty it made him feel, and lets her give him a gruffer version of the congratulations as the nurses earlier instead of worrying her. 

She most pick up on how uncomfortable he is anyway, because the subject moves on pretty quick from there. Instead of pressing things, she seems intent on distracting him now. She takes on the task of telling him about every last news story she has seen in the last two days. Which is about as confusing as dull as it sounds like it might be. Some of the stories would be interesting if she could remember more than a handful of details and stop getting them mixed up with other segments. Hajime only makes it through five or six jumbled stories before he falls asleep on her.  
.  
…  
.  
Surprisingly, his mother is still there when he wakes up. More surprisingly, so are three other people. Two women he doesn’t fully recognize, but they are wearing the ward blue, and one guy he has never seen before hovering somewhere around the back corner of his bed. He must make some kind of confused noise at the commotion, because he catches his mother’s attention.

“Good news Hajime. A room opened up. We’re going to move you upstairs now.” Ah. That would explain all the people. And why they are unhooking and rearranging a bunch of stuff on his bed. That might even explain why, after being pretty clear all day, his brain feels like cotton again. Maybe they gave him something preemptive for the move while he was still asleep.

Whatever it is, it makes the trip upstairs almost as disorienting as his trip into the OR had been. Once again he’s laid out completely flat on his back, so even if he could manage to keep his eyes open all he would be able to see is the fluorescent lighting. He drifts in and out to the temperature changes as the move around, at what feels like break-neck speeds from Hajime’s position on the bed. At some point he opens his eyes to see them rolling into an elevator, and is so confused his mother has to explain what’s going on again.

He’s pretty much gone by the time they actually reach his room. Even as he is trying to listen to his night nurse and tech introduce themselves, his eyes aren’t even half open. He can hear his mother talking, but everything sounds very far away. Someone is doing something with something that might be his arm. He’s not sure. There might be something in his mouth. It’s hard to tell. 

Introductions have to be repeated a few hours later, long after his mother is gone, when Hajime’s mind starts to clear up again. According to the clock he can actually fucking see, thank goodness, it’s 11:42 at night. The tech and night nurse keep things short and simple, introducing themselves again, and pointing out a whiteboard on the wall where their names are written down with their titles. Hajime is back asleep without much more than the quick visual tour a vitals check. 

This floor is much quieter than the open ward. What with having actual walls and all. With the dimmer lights and less noisy neighbors, Hajime sleeps way better here than he did down stairs. Even though he is regularly interrupted by vitals/meds combo check ins, and two more barfing incidents. So maybe not that much better of a night over all. Why the hell is so much easier to sleep during the day dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out, not putting this chapter up in the middle of the night! Oh. Heads up: the next update is either going to pretty early or a little late. Im going out of town for a few days for some school stuff. 
> 
> I've got nothing in terms of medical jargon to explain this time. let me know if you have any questions. 
> 
> comments are like several weeks worth of motivation for me. or find me on twitter at @confused_foam and yell at/with me there 
> 
> next time on POPR: the cooking network, yes Hajime does have other friends, and stairs are the devil. "Why the hell is the orange flavored?!"

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yeah, I did wind up doing a continuation from the previous fic about Hajime's time in the hospital. Once again this is largely based off my own experiences with hospitalization and recovery from this surgery, this chapter especially. Sleepy, drugged up Hajime is a product of my own suffering. 
> 
> Tags will be updated as I move forward with the story


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